


just like an amnesiac (trying to get my senses back)

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Fanart, Kinda, M/M, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Why does kokichi attract so many injuries?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:05:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: laughing with a mouth of blood,from a little spill I took





	just like an amnesiac (trying to get my senses back)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [he's only honest when he's asleep](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/353391) by atsooshis. 



Kokichi fell.

He fell hard, and fast, the floor giving way beneath him, unable to stop his decent. He was used to falling, just not quite so literally.

He silences his shout of pain, quickly, as his head hits floorboard, hand quickly grabbing his head, sluggish movements. It came back bloody, bloody, bloody. 

 _Huh_ , was his only thought, _am I dying?_

He was, in fact, not dying, but he thought it was a fair first reaction. Head wounds weren't a laughing matter– not that that would stop him from laughing at them, though.

He stood up, stumbling a few steps before falling again, this time his hands instinctively reaching out to catch himself. His own blood smeared onto the floors, his hands burning from the impact. He grimaced, getting into his knees. How humiliating, to have to crawl.

It took way to long to make it to the hallway, blacking out making the whole experience hazy. As if he wasn't attached to his body. He even had to take breaks when crawling, because of it, laying still, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath him. He almost didn't want to get up. 

What if he didn't? What if he laid here, forever and ever, until his wound bleeds out and his life fades? It wouldn't be that hard, and no one would miss him, he's sure.

And, hey, wouldn't that be entertaining? Wouldn't that be interesting for the audience? He's sure there is one, his hazy, faded memories just out of reach proving it. He's always loved the detective type characters.

" _Huh - ?"_

He knew that voice, where did he know that voice from? It's so familar, so concerned and fearful in a way that twisted his heart—it should never be that scared sounding, it should never. Just who was it again? If only he could lift his head, lift his head—

Saihara.

"it's a lie!" He says, not really registering what he's saying, just wanting that horrified expression to go _away_ , and it did,  exasperation taking its place.

And then he forces himself up, stumbling and wobbling like a fool, because he can't take that look on his face, annoyance that isn't in the least bit fond. 

 

 

it's a - well, as normal as a bizarre trial like this can be. Honestly, kokichi tunes out half of what kiyo says, not only out of disgust, but pain. He was able to ignore his wound for a while now, the throbbing not enough to keep him out of commission. Sure, he fell asleep once, but he was able to play that off as a joke—just him being him, annoying, disrespectful kokichi.

He was doing so well, at lying, convincing others he was not in pain. He was doing so well, walking from the trial grounds to the elevator, only a slight tremor in his weak legs.

And then kaito punched him.

 

 

 

 

Saihara didn't expect it to happen. No one did, really, one moment kokichis taunts echoing in their ears, the next, his body falling, limp, like a puppet who's strings were suddenly cut. His breathing, too soft, harsh and abrasive, stuck in his throat, was the first thing saihara noticed. The blood dripping down from his forehead, the wound reopened from his fainting spell, was the second. Kaito stumbled, shock echoing in his bones, panic on his face.

 _ah_ , saihara thought,  _how_   _didn't_   _I_   _realize?_

 

 

Kokichis body was still limp, in his bed. Kaito had panicked, hastily searching for kokichis room key, opening his room. They didn't expect what they found in there, a mess of evidence and planing, a white board chart sorting them into categories. Next to saiharas name, was one word—trustworthy, followed by uncertain question marks. His was the only name that was deemed that.

Paranoia. That was the word saihara was grasping for, only touching the after image. It was pure paranoia, that shaped this room, distrust seeming into the very walls. All three of them could feel it, even maki, who had hesitated to help kokichi in the first place. But, even she could admit the state the boy was in inspired pity, his face so unlike the taunting sneer he would wear, looking more like a lost child. And, she had always had a soft spot for children, however begrudgen.

Kaito stepped over lose papers and evidence, towards kokichis bed, placing him gently down, guilt clearly seeping into his heart. Kokichi groaned softly, but did not stir. 

Something caught saiharas eye, a monopad next to kokichis head. He wondered why it was there, in his bed, but didn't know. He couldn't possibly deduce from his limited understanding of kokichi, that he fell asleep at night, listening to the stacky voices of monokumas voice, soft honey lies coming from the speakers, desperately wishing the words were real, but knowing they couldn't possibly be.

 _and everybody loved their leader-_ _and everybody loved their leader–_ _and everybody loved their leader—_

saihara and the others startled, when they looked back to the boy, tears slowly cascading down his cheeks, like rain water.

Maki was the one who spoke first, disbelief in her voice, "No ones as good as a liar as to lie in their sleep."

Theyre silent, after that, the fragile air suffocating them. 

They all wondered– is he really asleep, then?– but they knew, that he was. Makis knowledge of the human body confirming it, her explaining that she had to know when her targets were asleep, in some cases, because it was one of the best times to strike. They shivered at the implications of that, but did not dwell, perhaps too cowardly to confront the facts of their friends job, perhaps too scared to realize that they befriended a murder, yet pushed a boy lied away as if that was a greater sin. Maki hated that they didn't acknowledge the truth of her work, but let it go, to focused on the world shattering beneath her, all because of a single question running through her mind, at the sight of tears on his face.

What were kokichis lies, and what were his truths?

She just didn't know. She knew, of course, that she wasn't a good person. She had murdered, felt no remorse, only a hollow broken thing in her chest. And yet, she had condemned him for mere lying, for simply getting on her neeves. No, it was more than that.

Maki hadn't realized it before, but she was bitter. Bitter that he had exposed her truths, all the while still coated in lies. She hated such hypocrisy, the unfairness of judgement. Kokichi was the thief who accused everyone else of being one, and she hated that in her case, he was right.

She wondered that, if he really did hate liars, if he hated himself.

If that's so, maybe it's if he does her job for her. She knows, from her own personal experience, that no one can hate a person more than themselves. 

In a way, it was crueler for her to not hate him.

 

 

 

Kaito blinked, still processing the situation. Still processing the tears on kokichis cheeks, the restless, fitful sleep he had fallen into. _Oh_ , he thought, _oh ._

To think, he had thought he was so good at spotting people who needed help.

"When he wakes up, he's joining training." His voice was resolute, the fires in it almost making it sound angry, but it wasn't hostile. It was almost fragile, in a way.

Maki paused, reluctant. She still didn't like him, after all, wanting nothing to do with him or his shitty lies, but she knew that once Kaito was stuck on something, his mind couldn't be changed. She nodded, then turned to leave without a sound. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Kaito followed, murmuring something about getting water. It wasn't really a lie, he was getting water– he just omitted the reason why, the blood creeping up into his throat, the cough inches away from his lips.

And saihara was left alone.

....

No, not completely. The sleeping, crying surpreme leader still resting on his bed. His fingers moved on his own, wiping away his tears, tender. He got to work on treating kokichis head wound, praying that he didn't have a concision. His tears were still flowing, a bit, but softer, slower. He almost looked beautiful, like an angel bathed in ethereal glow. It was a ridiculous thought to have about kokichi—but then again, maybe not. Saihara really didn't know anything about him, as proved today. But, that would change. Kaito, him, and even maki, they'd help him get better, however slowly. Maybe, such a thing could even prevent more murders.

Slowly, hesitantly, he bent down, pressing a soft kiss onto kokichis head. 

Kokichi didn't cry after that.


End file.
